


Let Your Chaos Explode

by emoedgelord



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, aged up post s2 bc i never got around to watching s3, huh this was kinda sad, the other boys get name dropped but that’s it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emoedgelord/pseuds/emoedgelord
Summary: Haru dies…and Makoto is left to pick up the pieces of his broken heart.
Relationships: Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Let Your Chaos Explode

**Author's Note:**

> the only way to get my friend to write another chapter to her ongoing fic was if i bribed her with a fic exchange, hence my take on her beloved ship, makoharu. 
> 
> enjoy my attempts at writing.

Haru dies.

___

_…and his world is set on fire._

_____

Makoto steps out into frigid cold air of the night, one hand holding the restaurant door open, the other firmly grasping at Haru’s hand, pulling him along. The other man trails behind him, eyes averting his partner’s gaze, a pinkish hue lightly dusting his cheeks. From the cold or embarrassment, Makoto doesn’t know. He smiles at him warmly to which Haru tentatively returns.

Makoto looks down to stare at their joint hands, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles around the back of his partner’s palm. He lets go momentarily to intertwine them, filling the spaces between fingers with his, where he could properly hold on to them before bring it up to his lips, placing two soft kisses on the knuckles of the other’s hand, laughing lightly when Haru’s cheeks goes up in flames, now obviously from embarrassment.

“H-hey!” Haru pulls his hand away but doesn’t release his fingers from Makoto’s grip, watching as their hands fall together between them.

“Sorry! Sorry! I just can’t help myself, I’m just so happy to get to finally spend some time with you.” Makoto says with a reassuring squeeze, “I can stop, if you want. It’s just that I haven’t seen you in weeks and I missed you so much…” he trails off, suddenly bashful.

Haru’s eyes widen at the confession, “…I missed you t—,” he suddenly lurches forward, body falling limp, as the sound of tires screeching and gun shots rang through the air.

Makoto watches in horror, a scream tearing at his throat, as he is suddenly knocked to the ground at the sudden weight of Haru’s body falls on top of him, unmoving. He lies there, bewildered for a few seconds, until the feeling of something warm and wet is seeping into his clothing. He looks down, blowing away dark hair that had stuck to his lips.

“Haru…? Are you okay? Haru? Haruka?!” Makoto scrambles to get out from underneath the body, hands shaking as he maneuvers the other man’s body into a supine position. Grasping Haru’s shoulders, ignoring his blood-stained hands, he shakes at him, repeatedly saying his name over and over again until his voice raw and hoarse to no avail. His face is wet, from the blood or tears, he doesn’t know.

_Doesn’t care to know._

His hands shook, as he moves to cradle Haru’s face, painting it red, _but he doesn’t care_. Not when Haru’s lifeless eyes are staring back at him.

_No!_

Makoto doesn’t know long he sat there next to his body. His vision blurred from all the tears he had spent. He feels hands on him, which he shrugs away, voices drifting in and out of his consciousness. He only remembers momentarily leaving his side, allowing Haru’s body be transferred to a stretcher. He looks around him at surprised at the number of people gathered around him. Makoto belatedly realizes that someone is trying to talk to him, but he finds that he cannot speak, eyes focusing on Haru’s body being wheel onto the back of the ambulance. His feet moving on their own according as he chases after the stretcher, reaching for him.

Always him. 

The paramedics were kind enough to give him a moment more to grieve, pointedly looking away, pity in their eyes, before loading up Haru’s lifeless form into the vehicle.

Haru’s hands had been cold as ice against his.

___

… _and his soul dies along with him._

_____

He wakes up to the cold, gray light of the morning streaming through his blinds. He tentatively looks over to his side, even though he already knows what he going to see. He looks anyways.

The other side of the bed was empty.

Makoto brings a hand to his face, wiping away traces of what little sleep he had the night before. Actually, he hadn’t been sleeping well ever since that incident. Lying in bed for a few more minutes, he decides to get up and makes his way towards the bathroom.

He frowns at the reflection looking back at him.

He looked like he had been crying, eyes red and puffy against the deep set of eye bags that have accumulated over the past few days. Tear stains paints his cheeks in streaks, as he turns on the faucet in an attempt to wash his face, scrubbing furiously until his both his hands and face are an angry red, raw from the abuse.

He reaches for the towel, hanging haphazardly next to the sink, quickly wiping his face and then exiting the bathroom and heading back into his room, where he strips out of his night clothes and into a new clean set of pajamas, pocketing his phone, before heading into the kitchen for something to eat.

He notices a pot sitting on top of his stove counter that wasn’t there the night before. Upon closer inspection, he notices a sticky note on the counter, reading: _I made some porridge, hope it brings you a little warmth. We’re here if you need us. Call soon, love mom._

She must’ve dropped it off on her way to work, he muses, reaching for a bowl and filling it up but by the third spoonful, he found that he could not stomach another bite. He dumps the contents of his bowl in the trash, quickly rinsing it out and setting it aside to properly wash later. He then takes what’s left of the pot and shoves it inside the refrigerator to avoid it from spoiling.

Letting out a big sigh, he runs his hands through his unkempt hair, surveying the empty room noting a thin layer of dust starting to settle on the furniture. He grimaces, normally Haru would do most of the chores around the house because he was such a homebody, but now that he was gone, Makoto couldn’t bring himself to touch any of the cleaning supplies. Because cleaning felt like he was moving on, wiping away his memory.

Erasing Haru’s existence.

Something he never _ever_ wanted to do.

___

The taste of bile is sour, as he empties the contents of his stomach into the kitchen sink.

___

_…and he finds comfort in a dear friend._

_____

Rin Matsuoka shows up at the house two days later.

He was sleeping, as the sound of the pounding on the door echoes across the empty house, waking him up. Makoto rises slowly, rubbing at his eyes, glancing at the digital clock staring back at him. It was middle of the night.

The knocking persisted, getting louder and louder each time.

“I’m coming!” he yells out, grabbing some sweatpants off of the floor where he had discarded them earlier that day, not bothering to find a shirt, he makes his way towards the front door.

He opens the door, and there stood Rin, all hard lines and sharp teeth.

The two hadn’t seen each other since the funeral, couldn’t muster up the courage to say anything to each other. Makoto remembers the man in front of him breaking down in the middle of his eulogy, hands fisting at the small slip of paper he was reading from. He had wanted to go to him, hug him, comfort him, do _something._

But he was a coward, so he just stood there. Numb.

Numb.

Numb.

_Numb._

And now Rin was here, standing outside his doorway, half a bottle of whisky in hand. The man gave Makoto a quick once over, quirking one eyebrow, “So you’re just gonna stand there or are you gonna let me in?”

“I—sorry, come in. Come in!” Makoto scrambles to give him space to enter, as Rin shoves past him with a grunt, taking off his shoes and making a beeline towards the kitchen. Curious, Makoto follows him, watching as he grabs three glasses from the cupboards, pushing past him heading into the living room where he collapses on one of the cushions, placing the contents of his hands onto the coffee table. Rin gives him a hard look, motioning for him to take a seat beside him.

Makoto swallows the lump in his throat, but complies, taking a seat at the other end of the couch as Rin pours alcohol into each glass.

He should say something, Makoto thinks, opening his mouth but no words come out, he clears his throat, trying again but Rin beats him to it.

“You’ve lost weight,” Rin says, glancing at Makoto’s sunken cheeks then down his prominent ribs.

Makoto looks down at himself, he hadn’t noticed at all, but he still pulls at one of the cushions behind him, using it as a shield to hide his body, suddenly self-conscious and ashamed. Rin snorts beside him.

“What the fuck man.” Rin rasps about the same time Makoto says, “I’m sorry.”

They both fall silent, looking at each other, the air between them thickening as more time passes by waiting for the other to speak first.

Rin releases a deep sigh, hands coming up to cover his face then resting his forehead against them. “…I never blamed you,” he whispers into the darkened room at long last, Makoto flinches at the words but says nothing, not knowing what to say.

Rin straightens out his back, then sagging into the couch, suddenly exhausted, “I’m sorry,” he says finally after a moment, staring at the ceiling, “…I was—I was angry…so angry…at you and Haru that I just…but I—never blamed you for what happened,” he’s crying now, tears streaming down his face as he furiously tries to wipe them away.

It was at this point when Makoto truly takes him in, from his greasy hair to his crumpled shirt to the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t been taking care of himself either.

He was hurting.

Hurting.

Hurting.

_Hurting._

Makoto finds himself scooting closer, pulling the broken man into an embrace, Rin’s body shaking like a leaf. He holds Rin against him tighter, wanting nothing more than to take away the other man’s pain. They stayed like that for a moment neither one ready to let the other go.

It was Rin who pulls away first, wiping at his nose using the sleeves of his shirt. “Thank you,” he mumbles after a few deep breaths.

And suddenly Makoto feels a rush of gratitude. He knew that Rin loved Haru, too. Makoto had always known that ever since they were kids. He had envied them at times, their relationship was different, filled with fire and passion. They were two sides of the same coin. In the end, they had saved each other from themselves and Makoto couldn’t be more thankful. Their love for one another akin to soulmates, well, platonic soulmates, Haru had described to him once in a shy laugh.

Makoto watches silently as Rin makes a grab for two of the glasses on the table, shoving one of them into his hands. “For Haru,” Rin murmurs raising his drink towards the third glass on the table, clinking it against Makoto's, then downing it in one gulp.

Makoto hesitates, staring intently at the dark amber liquid swirling, he clenches at the glass. 

He feels a sudden weight on his back, a hand grasping at his shoulders. Makoto realizes that he’s suddenly crying, shoulders shaking as Rin's starts rubbing soothing circles on his back. He looks up at the other man, who had looked away, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. Makoto couldn’t see his face, but he knew that the Rin had started crying again as well, judging from the sound of sniffling.

In this moment, he never appreciated the red-haired man more than ever. He was proud to call this man his best friend.

“For Haru,” Makoto chokes out, heart at his throat.

He drinks.

___

_…and learns to navigate life without him._

_____

The first few months were hard, he saw Haru’s face wherever he went. It didn’t help that he lives in a small town surrounded by ocean, a constant reminder of his long-lost love. He trudges along the boardwalk, admiring the way waves crash against the shoreline, a constant push and pull of the tides.

He makes his way down the old rickety steps, making sure to take off his shoes and rolling up the ends of his pants before stepping into the sand. He starts walking, absentmindedly kicking at the sand, reveling in the way they felt against his feet.

The sound of laughter causes him to look up, not expecting anyone to be up as early as he is. His breath catches at his throat, as a ghost from his past enters his peripheral. His hand moves at its own accord, reaching.

Reaching.

Reaching.

_Reaching._

A name at the tip of his tongue.

“ –Oh Riku-san, you’re so funny!” a woman’s voices says in a giggle, holding hands with a bright eyed, dark hair man.

Makoto freezes.

Oh.

He rubs at his eyes, heart turning to stone.

Of course.

He shakes his head in disbelief, _Haru’s gone,_ he tells himself. Looking down, feeling foolish, he quickens his pace, away from the couple. Away from this apparition.

By the time, he finally looks back up again, he is at the base of the steps leading to Haru’s house. He’s still barefoot, his feet screaming at him in pain against the harsh graveled road. He quickly crouches down to put his shoes back on, wincing as he notices a few cuts on the soles of his feet.

A sudden movement catches his eye, that he turns to look, surprised to see a familiar creature poking his head out from the under one of the bushes. He holds out his hand invitingly, as a white feline stares at him intently before letting out a few cautionary sniffs before making his way towards him, rubbing her face at his outstretched palm. Slowly as to not scare her, he picks her up, making sure not to jostle her too much, yet with enough leniency to allow her to jump out of his arms, if she wanted to. When it seems content within his arms, he smiles, before looking up at the once familiar path.

He places the cat back down.

Makoto gathers up what little courage he has left, his stone heart weighing him down like bricks at every step he took. And suddenly, he’s at the front door, memories coming in waves and flashes, surging and spiraling like a tropical storm.

His hands tremble as he pulls the keys from his trousers, pushing it through the lock, hearing the sound of locks turning, a click—signaling the door was unlocked.

He hesitates. The last time he was in here was when he was moving his things out. He couldn’t take living in a dead man’s house, a house that wasn’t his. Not really.

He wasn’t ready, but will he every be?

But he had to start somewhere, he thinks, as he pushes open the door.

___

_…and he moves on, sort of._

_____

A few more years passed and he’s tried dating a few times, but the chasm in his heart is so wide that he just finds it unfair for the other person of his inability to love again. So, he breaks it off before things get serious.

Because he’s not cruel.

He knows he cannot give them the love that they deserve.

And it does get lonely, living in a house that’s a little too big for just one person. But he’s never truly alone. His family ever a constant, is the backbone of his support system. Rei and Nagisa visit when they can, the two had just recently moved to the big city for a job, and with a wedding on the way, Makoto was kept in frequent contact with either one of them to help with wedding plans. Gou decided to come back after college, stating that the hustle and bustle of the city life just wasn’t for her, she mentioned finding a coaching job in swimming last time they had met up for a chat. Sousuke was still working at the autoshop with his father, though last he heard, he had officially taken over the mantle. The two still weren’t the best of friends, but if they ever found themselves in the local tavern, both men tend to gravitate towards each other, exchanging pleasantries and the like then they're off to brooding and drinking their booze in silence.

And Rin, well, of course he was in Australia, off living his dream. He still comes back every once in a while, mostly to visit Sousuke and his parents, but the red-haired man always made sure to at least spend the whole day with him, for old times sake. The two would visit Haru’s grave together, clearing off the dirt and foliage that had overgrown during the changing of the seasons, both men contented with the menial task. Then, they would eventually migrate to Haru’s old—well it was technically his house now, where they would just catch up on each other’s lives. That was when he found out that Rin was coming back, officially, “After the Japan 2020 Olympics, I’m coming back for good,” he had said with such finality, it shakes him to the core. Makoto remembers being shocked at his sudden confession.

“Why?”

“Maybe I just miss you, stupid,” he had said cheekily, to which Makoto had rolled his eyes, giving him a swift kick to his leg, Rin just laughs taking it all in stride, swirling the contents of his drink in one hand, “…I can’t keep Sousuke waiting on me forever,” he says after a moment, taking one long sip from his glass.

“You mean…?”

“After the Olympics…I’ll do it, and…I was hoping if you’d want to be my best man?”

Makoto feel tears well in his eyes as he vehemently nods his head, “Of course I do!” He reaches over, to clasp onto one of Rin’s hands, looked at him straight in the eyes, “I’m happy for you,” he says, tightening his grip momentarily, before letting go, “And you can bet your ass, Haru’s happy for you too.”

And for the first time in a long time, the chasm of his heart was overflowing with happiness.

_____

_…and he dies._

_____

It was raining harshly, the wind howling violently around him as he struggles to push against the elements with his trusty umbrella. He only pauses when he hears a chorus of miserable meows coming from his left, he moves towards them, crouching, leaning his umbrella towards them. The cats jump at the chance, darting towards his legs finding shelter in the protection of this lone man and his umbrella, wanting to avoid getting soaked further from the rain. He smiles down at them, straightening his stance, getting ready to start walking—

When his world suddenly goes black.

___

Darkness, he was surrounded by darkness.

Then suddenly he was falling.

Falling.

Falling.

_Falling._

_____

Makoto wakes up in the world of the In-Between, not quite purgatory nor paradise. It takes the form of the old Iwatobi Swim Club building. The only reason he even recognizes it was due to his frequent visitations to it during his youth swimming with friends. It had long since closed down, many years ago and the last he’s heard from it, demolished and turned into office buildings.

He’s underwater, that much he’s gathered, looking up at the bright lights overhead. Normally, he would have panicked, having preferred being above the surface tension of the water. But he finds himself able to breath. Or was he not breathing?

Who knows.

He treads lightly at the water, content at just floating about, staying under. The water doesn’t sting at his eyes, and he doesn’t choke on it when he opens his mouth to breath.

Interesting.

Makoto doesn’t know how long he’s been under, time works differently in the world of the In-Between. He figures, he’s waiting for someone, but he doesn’t know who. Someone should be coming for him, right? Someone to lead him into the afterlife, to be reincarnated or banished into the void.

He huffs, trying not to get annoyed. The anticipation was killing him.

Oh, the irony. 

But in all seriousness, it was rude to be kept waiting.

___

A voice calls out to him, and suddenly he’s five years old again, hiding behind his mother’s leg as he was being introduced to a boy his age.

A boy who’d end up being the most important person in his life.

He feels the tears coming before they fall, as he turns slowly toward the sound of his name, afraid.

  
Afraid of being disappointed.

Afraid of having his heart broken again.

Afraid of what’s waiting for him on the other side.

_“Haru!”_

_____

And there he was, standing, or was he floating as well? His fists were clenched at his sides, angry. Haru looked as beautiful as the day Makoto lost him.

Makoto pushes against the water, moving his arms and legs as he swims towards Haru, until his body slams against the other boy, wrapping his arms around him, never intending to ever let go again.

He feels Haru arms slowly wrap around his waist, which only serves to make him sob all the more harder.

They stayed in each other’s arms for what felt like eternity, before Haru pulls away, placing an arm’s length of distance between the two. Haru’s eyes are wild, like the raging ocean during a hurricane, and Makoto finds himself shrinking away.

“You idiot!” Haru yells at him, shoulders shaking in frustration, “You weren’t supposed to die…”

Makoto smiles sadly at his words, “…How did I die?” he asks, looking at the smaller boy, who sniffs before saying, “Some asshole in a truck tried to pass a car on a curve, lost control due to the rain and…” Haru pauses to let out an unsteady breath, “You just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. You died upon impact.”

Makoto recoils at his words, but says nothing, trying to process what he had just heard.

Haru starts pacing in front of him, he mutters to himself, “You had so much to live for! You were finally moving on. Forgetting about me!”

Makoto turns to him at those words, suddenly angry, “What are you saying? I could never forget about you!”

“That’s because you weren’t trying hard enough!”

Makoto goes silent, “How could I? When everything I do, everywhere I go reminds me of you. You weren’t just my best friend or partner. You were my everything!” he practically screams at the man. 

Haru grasps Makoto’s shirt, equally frustrated, shaking him in hopes to convey his feelings more thoroughly, “I wanted you to live, find a wife or husband. You’ve always wanted kids, right? Whatever happened to that dream?!”

Makoto wraps his hands over Haru’s fists that were griping at him, stilling his movements, “It’s not the same without you in it…It’s always been you!” He closes the distance between them with a sigh, “I never wanted to live in a world without you in it,” Makoto whispers to him.

Haru chokes back a sob at the confession, as he buries his face into the material of Makoto’s shirt. He feels the other man wrap his arms around him, to which he reciprocated, holding him tightly until he stops shaking, as a sob wrecks through his body. Makoto physically deflates, all anger temporarily gone, as he rubs soothing circles around the smaller man’s back.

Haru looks up at him after a long while, staring. Memorizing and refamiliarizing himself with other’s face. He reaches up tentatively to trace the lines at the corner of Makoto’s eyes, frowning slightly, “You know, even with wrinkles, you’re still attractive, old man.” He says in slight awe.

Makoto lets out a chuckle, hands coming up to cup Haru’s cheeks before leaning down to give him a soft, long awaited kiss.

___

_People linked by destiny will always find each other._

___

**Author's Note:**

> haru dies at age 25, makoto dies at age 30. maybe idk. 
> 
> bro, i don’t even ship this. RINHARU RIGHTS!!!!!
> 
> i killed them off for the LOLs 
> 
> the title and last line are from the witcher


End file.
